II.

I heard the old man scoldin' yesterday Because your spellin' didn't suit him quite; He said you'd better go to school at night, And you was rattled when he turned away; You had to tear the letter up and write It all again, and when nobody seen I went and dented in his hat for spite: That's what he got for treatin' you so mean.

I wish that you typewrote for me and we Was far off on an island, all alone; I'd fix a place up under some nice tree, And every time your fingers struck a key I'd grab your hands and hold them in my own, And any way you spelt would do for me.